


The 2pm Train from Edinburgh

by missdibley



Series: Panic: A Series of One-Shots Set in London (except for the one set in Edinburgh) [5]
Category: Suburban Shootout, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Wallander (UK TV), Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus Martinsson and family enjoy one last morning in Edinburgh before returning to London. His daughter Maggy meets Bill Hazeldine again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 2pm Train from Edinburgh

#### Halla

I had to convince Magnus it was worth the money to check our bags at the train station so we wouldn’t spend our last morning in Edinburgh dragging them around the National Museum of Scotland.

“Love, it’s just a few hours. And couldn’t the Museum keep our luggage in the cloakroom anyway?” He frowned at me when I took the wallet out of his hand and paid the very nice clerk at the left luggage counter.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. For security concerns, that would be my guess. You can appreciate that, can’t you?”

“I guess I could but at ￡5 per bag I’m finding it hard to accept.”

I squeezed his hand. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re all light packers, then.” I gave him back his wallet, then turned around to find Maggy looking nervous and Håkan reading another Harry Potter. I stepped forward and pushed my daughter’s bangs off her forehead so I could press the back of my hand to it. “You okay, Mags?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked away for a moment, not even for a second, but I could tell she had something on her mind. I took her hand, and we followed Magnus and Håkan outside to begin the walk to the museum. Though it was June, the skies were grey over our heads. The air was cold and damp, and I dropped her hand so I could put my arm around Maggy’s shoulders when she shivered.

“Tell me.”

“No, Ma.” Maggy shook her head. “If I tell you anything it’s just going to end up in one of your stories.”

I gasped. “What? When have I ever used your life like that?”

“Please! You can’t say Aggy Aaronson isn’t based on me.”

“She is not!”

“She’s a Swedish-Filipino girl who lives in Chicago with her parents, brother, and the world’s oldest wire hair terrier. Are you really telling me that Aggy, the star of your children’s books where she solves mysteries when she’s supposed to be doing her homework, isn’t just a teensy bit based on me?”

“You and Aggy are totally different! For example, Aggy tells her mother everything.” I wiggled my eyebrows at my daughter, but she just looked exasperated. She rolled her eyes.

“That’s how I know it’s fiction. What sixteen year old girl tells her mother everything anyway?”

“Well, throw your poor old mother a bone, then. I’ve been dying to ask you about Bill since we got up here a week ago.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Maggy looked away again and I gently pinched her arm. She squeaked. “Ma!”

“Magnolia Bettina Martinsson, now I know you’re lying to me.”

Maggy looked ahead at her father and brother, then shook her head. “I don’t think Daddy wants me to talk about him.”

“Daddy’s just old-fashioned when it comes to you and your brother, especially you.”

“Don’t you mean sexist?”

“He’s just very protective of us.”

“Paternalistic, more like.”

“Well, what do you expect, Magnolia? He is your father!” I saw Magnus turn around and look at us.

“What’s that?” Magnus yelled.

I waved my hand at him. “Nothing, dear!” I tried to sound breezy. I turned back to Maggy, who was twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Even if your father doesn’t like talking about Bill, or boys or dating, he will if you wanted to. If you needed to.” I bit my lip. “You know you can talk to us about anything, right?”

Maggy nodded, then she closed her eyes and sighed. “He kissed me. Bill did. On the train up here.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to jump for joy because Maggy confirmed what I’d suspected, or if I wanted to freak out about my baby girl kissing a boy. So I just kept my mouth shut and nodded.

“Please don’t be mad.”

I felt tears prick my eyes when I heard how small her voice sounded. I pulled her into my arms and hugged her tight. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know.” I heard her sniffle so I released her and started digging in my purse for a tissue. “Who kisses a boy they just met like that?”

“A lot of girls do. Nothing wrong with it. I did. I told you how Daddy and I met, right?”

“At that 7-11 on Wacker, right?” Maggy smiled. “It’s the reason why you guys always eat hot dogs on your anniversary.”

“Exactly. We rode the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier that night, and he kissed me.” I nodded, remembering that we did a lot more than kiss the day we met but Maggy didn’t have to know that.

“Is that all?” Maggy looked at me slyly.

“We held hands,” I said primly.

“Okay, now you’re lying to me.” I tried to look indignant at Maggy’s accusation, but I soon broke into laughter.

#### Maggy

“Daddy?” I slipped my hand into my father’s as we stood in the middle of the Museum.

“What is it you’d like, dearest?”

“What makes you think I want something?”

“Whenever you’re about to ask for something, you call me Daddy and hold my hand.” He looked down at me and winked. “I can’t say that I mind it so much. Especially as you seem to need less from me, as you get older.”

I rubbed my cheek against his arm. “I’m only sixteen.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But it was just yesterday that you were six and running around the yard with Moomin.” He kissed the top of my head.

“You’re such a softie.”

“Well that’s no secret. Your mother’s been saying that for years.” He sighed. “So what was it you wanted?’”

“Is it okay if I explore the museum on my own?”

He looked down at me. “Yes. Except you’re not going to be on your own, are you?”

I could feel myself getting warm as I blushed. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. Lucky guess.” He looked across the room. “Your date is here.”

I followed his eyes and saw Bill walking toward us. He looked nervous.

“Hello, sir.”

“Bill.” Daddy nodded at Bill, then squeezed my hand. “Meet us out front at 1:00, okay? You need money for lunch, souvenirs?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m good.”

“Have a nice time.” Daddy kissed the top of my head again and left me with Bill, who took my hand in his and squeezed it.

#### Halla

“Nicely done, Papa.” I slipped my arm around Magnus’s waist, watching Maggy and Bill out of the corner of my eye as they took off.

“I feel like shit, Halla. She’s growing up, and I don’t like it.”

“Da-ad!” Håkan peered up at Magnus accusingly. “You said a swear.”

“That I did, and if the swear jar were here I’d be shoving a quarter into it. But as we are not at home where it resides, then I have no choice but to give you this 50 pence piece.” Magnus reached into his pocket for a coin, and placed it carefully in Håkan’s outstretched hand.

“Do you need a receipt?” Håkan sounded so serious I had to laugh.

“No,” replied Magnus solemnly. “I trust you.” He squeezed me tight then looked over his shoulder at the spot where he’d left Maggy and Bill. “I trust you all.”

#### Bill

I spent the week after I met Maggy wondering when I’d see her again. I knew her parents had planned a pretty full itinerary for them. An itinerary that seemed to avoid the Museum where I’d begun my internship. I didn’t want to bug her too much, not if it might get her in trouble. But I wanted to. Because when I kissed her on the train she kissed me back. Because when I held her hand I felt good in a way that I never felt with Jewel, and I wanted to feel like that again.

She started texting me pictures the next day, and continued to do so all week. A closeup of some flowers from the Princes Street Gardens. Her mother and father sitting on a bench, their eyes closed and heads pressed together at the temple, enjoying a rare bit of sunshine. Håkan going mental (in a good way) at The Elephant House, where J.K. Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter book. That shot made my heart skip a beat because the cafe is so close to the Museum. But no pictures of her, of Maggy.

So I replied with pictures of my own. A grid of labels I had printed out for the specimens I was organizing at the Museum. The front door of the flat where I was staying. The Newfoundland who lived next door jumping into The Water of Leith, a stream that ran through Stockbridge, the neighborhood where my flat was. My muddy trainers after a run through Inverleith Park. When I sent her a picture of the Museum entrance captioned with a question mark, Maggy replied with a snap of what must have been her dad’s printed itinerary:

Sunday (last day in Edinburgh)

AM: Check out hotel. Drop bags at train station. Walk to NMS antic. arr 10:00.

PM: 12:00 lunch, Greyfriars Bobby’s Bar. 14:00 train from Waverley. Arr. Kings X approx. 18:42. Check in hotel, 20:00 dinner with Oakleys in Marylebone.

I sent back a picture of myself, wearing what I hoped looked like an excited expression. Her reply? A photo of her face, eyebrow arched, but with her mouth covered by her hand. On the back of her hand was a perfect red lip print. I tapped that spot of the picture with my fingertip, then stared at it until I fell asleep, happy that Sunday was, in fact, the next day.

#### Magnus

“Don’t you think that you and Bill look an awful lot alike?”

I frowned at Halla, who was eating an ice cream cone and looking awfully smug.

“No, and I still don’t see the resemblance between me and Oakley, though you and Helen have been insisting on that for years.”

“I can’t believe it…” Halla found her phone and began scrolling through the pictures. “See? That’s from two summers ago, when we were visiting them, and the two of you grilled steaks in the back garden.” She shook the phone for emphasis. “You even get sunburned in the same places on your face.”

“Still don’t see it.”

“COME ON.” Halla flipped to another picture. “What about this one? Christmas last year. We visited Joe, and we went to Flushing for dim sum with Oakley and Helen and their kids.”

“Still don’t see it.”

“DUDE. Even their kids look like ours. See? Their Violet looks just like Maggy when she was six. And the twins are the spitting image of Håkan when he was a baby.”

“If you say so.”

Halla looked like she wanted to strangle me. I didn’t know anybody could look angry as they ate ice cream. “Håkan, c’mere. Now look at this picture of Uncle Oakley and Daddy. Don’t they look alike?”

Håkan peered at the phone, then looked up at me. He looked back at his mother while nibbling at his ice cream cone. “Sorry, Mom. Don’t see it.”

“ARGH!!”

#### Bill & Maggy

“Is your dad always like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Doesn’t that make dating tough?”

“Tough but not impossible. Mom will plead my case if I need her to.”

“Has she done that a lot?”

“Is that another way of asking how many boys I’ve dated?”

“Maybe.”

“And why do you need to know how many boys I’ve dated?”

“I’m just gathering information.”

“Compiling a dossier, you mean. Like a police officer.”

“Maybe. Do you want to know how many girls I’ve dated?”

“Well, yes. I suppose I do.”

“Not too many. Before Jewel, just a couple of girls. Nobody serious.”

“Same here…”

“Oh? Just a couple of girls?”

“Dork! A couple of boys.”

“First kiss?”

“That’s awfully personal, don’t you think?”

“Well, seeing as how we’ve already kissed, I think I’m entitled to know.”

“Is that why you kissed me? Because you wanted to know my romantic history?”

“No. I kissed you because I wanted to. And it seemed like you wanted me to. You did want me to, right?”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“Good.”

“Do you want to kiss me now?”

“Sure.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I was just waiting for you to stop talking, Maggy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah—”

…

…

…

…

“How was that, Bill?”

“That was… nice.”

“Was that too much?”

“I’m not sure. Could you try again?”

…

…

…

..

“No. Just right.”

#### Maggy

One day I’ll make a list of all the dim corners in the National Museum of Scotland where Bill kissed me.

Today is not that day.

My fingers are still tingling from touching him, running my fingers through his hair. I haven’t yet caught my breath from kissing him, being kissed by him, in little winding staircases made of stone, hidden behind displays of Roman silver, riding in empty lifts. I asked him if he minded getting caught by the CCTV, or even his boss, and he just smiled sleepily before kissing me again. My hair is tangled. My lips are swollen. And I feel a little dizzy.

I had all these thoughts as Bill walked me back to the museum entrance where Mom, Dad, and Håkan were waiting for us.

“Did you learn a lot?” Mom smiled at me. “I mean, I know you’ve only been here a week, Bill, but I’m sure you were a wonderful tour guide.”

“Uh, um, y-yes, ma’am.” Bill turned to look at me with a panicked look in his eye. His face was pale.

“Yeah!” I nodded quickly. “We, um, looked at Dolly the sheep. And a lot of ancient Roman artifacts.”

Håkan looked up from the pamphlet he’d been studying. “What do you mean? Dolly the sheep isn’t even here. She’s at the Scottish National Library down the street.”

Oh god, I thought. Busted. I didn’t want to look at my dad’s face but I did it anyway. And I was surprised to see that he didn’t look angry but a little sad. He smiled at me, then took my mother’s hand.

“Well, thanks for taking care of her, Bill. I hope she behaved herself.”

Bill nodded, the color returning to his cheeks. “Yes, sir. It was a nice time. It was nice to see you again, sir. Ma’am.”

“Good. Good good.” Dad nodded at Bill, looked at me again, this time with a hint of a smile.

“I’m gonna say goodbye. I’ll catch up?”

Mom nodded at me, then began to walk in the direction of the train station, Dad on her left, his arm around her shoulders. Håkan held onto her right hand while he went back to reading Harry Potter.

I slipped my arms around Bill’s waist and hugged him. Leaning back a little, I closed my eyes and he kissed me, softly, sweetly, on the lips. I opened my eyes to find him smiling at me.

“It was nice to see you again, Maggy.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Thanks for the tour.”

“Sure.” Bill nodded. “Text me from the train?”

“I think I can do that.”

Before he could say anything else, I clasped him around the neck, pulled him down, and kissed him again. I squeezed my eyes shut and smelled the crook of his neck. Soap. A little sweat. But also green and a little watery, like the mist that hung over the city. I opened my eyes so I could look at him one more time. He kissed my hand before gently releasing me so I could join my parents and brother on the walk back to the train station.

I took Dad’s hand and rubbed my cheek against his arm.

“You okay?”

I looked up at him and nodded. Dad looked over his shoulder behind him.

“Look.” I turned and there was Bill, still standing there, hands jammed in his pockets. His head was tilted to one side and I knew, somehow, that he was smiling.

 


End file.
